


The Dornish Bride

by skyegazer8



Series: The Dornish Bride [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Queen Daenerys, R plus L equals J
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6754081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyegazer8/pseuds/skyegazer8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Jon Targaryen is just fine helping his aunt, Queen Daenerys ruling Westeros, just as he was just fine helping her conquer it. While she has the love of the common folk, the loyalty of some of the Houses, particularly one to the south, isn't as assured. His aunt however has a plan for that.<br/>"I've extended an invitation to Prince Sebastian and his family to visit King's Landing. I need a stronger alliance with Dorne. With the Martells. I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't have to, Jon, but I'd like you to marry one of his daughters."</p><p>Luminara Martell helped her adopted father, Prince Sebastian Martell reclaimed the Dornish throne from Ellaria Sand and the Sand Vipers. Now, she is content to live out her days in Sunspear, doing whatever she damn well pleases. However, when a certain invitation comes her father's way, he brings her along, even though she knows it's futile.</p><p>The two houses meet, with close-held grudges and deep wounds (from the Martells at least), but an understanding is reached. Prince Jon is to marry one of the Princesses of Dorne. The only question is, who will Jon choose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> I pulled certain things from both the books and TV show to make this AU. So, if you've only seen the TV show, some things will be confusing, however the A Song of Ice and Fire wiki can clear up any confusion.
> 
> Also, I created another branch of the Martell line. Prince Sebastian was the younger brother of Doran and Oberyn. Quara Allyrion Martell and Blydenn Allyrion are also my doing.

Jon had barely returned to the Red Keep when a page hailed him.

"Your highness," the boy panted at him, as he came to a stop beside him, "the queen requires an audience with you. She awaits you in the Tower of the Hand."

Jon nodded and murmured to him, "Thank you, Daz. I will go at once."

The boy flushed with pride that Jon knew his name. It was likely the lord he served didn't know it. Jon strode towards the tower as the boy fell back. He wiped a hand across his brow, the heat causing perspiration to gather there. There were times he missed the Wall and the North. On days like this, so hot and humid, not to mention the stench that came with it, the ache was strong.

As he walked through the Keep, people parted for him, bowing or curtsying to him. It had been five years since he had become Prince Jon Targaryen, and he was still uncomfortable with all the formalities. He sincerely doubted he ever would. He had confided this to Sam once; his reply had been if there come a day that he did, Sam would consider Jon well and truly changed, and not for the better.

He approached the Hand's council room, his footfalls harshly echoing in the stone corridor. Jon knocked hard once before opening the door. The queen stood with her back to him, her white blonde hair swaying gently in the breeze as she gazed out the open window, looking out at the sparkling sea. Tyrion sat at the oak table, swirling his chalice doubtlessly filled with wine. What Jon found curious was that the man didn't drink from it. Varys also sat at the table, next to Tyrion, with a face that revealed nothing.

"How fared the negotiations with the bakers?" Daenerys asked, still with her back to him.

"Well, my queen. Their demands will be met simply enough. My page will bring you the list of them so that they meet your approval."

"Good," she stated. Silence fell over the room. Jon shifted. Something was off. He didn't know what, but he was sure to find out soon enough with Daenerys finally turning to face him with her violet eyes dark and troubled.

"Will you please have a seat, Jon." She gestured to the chair closet to her, her tone slightly pleading. That put him on edge. His aunt, while she had never commanded him, she had most certainly had never begged him for anything.

"I'd rather not, if you don't mind, your majesty."

She waved her hand at his formality, wishing for him to speak plainly to her.

"If that is what you want..." she paused, hesitation written across her features. She glanced at Tyrion and Varys. Varys nodded at her, while Tyrion continued to stare into his cup, grimacing slightly.

"Jon," she sighed, "as you are aware, we have been working tirelessly to forged stronger alliances with the main houses..."

He nodded at her statement, wondering where this could be going.

"And for the most part, we have succeeded. Except with one house..." She pursed her lips.

"The Martells." Jon simply stated. The relationship they had with the Martells was cold at best. Not on his or his aunt's lack of trying. They simply despised Targaryens. Not that they were unjustified.

"Yes. Our alliance is tenuous at best. If I'm to rule Westeros, and keep Westeros, I will need them." At this point, she looked down unable to hold his gaze longer.

Jon studied his aunt. Her brows were furrowed, and her bottom lip worried slightly between her teeth. He clenched his jaw. Whatever she was about to say, he probably wasn't going to like it.

"I've extended an invitation to Prince Sebastian and his family to visit King's Landing. I need a stronger alliance with Dorne. With the Martells. I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't have to, Jon," She looked back up at him, her eyes wide and her jaw firm, "but I'd like you to marry one of his daughters."

She pressed her mouth into a line, as if unable to trust herself to speak any longer. Jon remained silent as her words washed over him.

He knew in the back of his mind this day would come. Not that he had to marry a Martell, just that he had to marry. It was obvious Daenerys wasn't going to produce an heir, not with her married to the Prince Consort Loras. Jon knew she wouldn't have married at all if she hadn't need the loyalty and backing of Highgarden. So it was up to him to continue the Targaryen line. Jon knew that one day Daenerys would ask this of him. He had just rather hoped the day would never come. He had no desire to marry, even now that he wasn't considered a bastard anymore. What had transpired between him and Ygritte had left him with the knowledge that whomever he loved was doomed, and he wasn't in a hurry to condemn another woman to that fate.

"You need only pick one. Prince Sebastian has five of them." Tyrion broke the silence, finally throwing back the wine.

"Yes, and they are all said to be very beautiful, my prince." Vayrs spoke to him.

Jon shot him a look. As if he would be concerned with their beauty alone. Ygritte wouldn't have been considered beautiful, and yet he still loved her.

Daenerys's hand covered his clenched one.

"Jon," she whispered, looking at him, searching his eyes, "please. You may pick the most beautiful, or the most clever, or the most amusing, I do not care. Whomever you pick, I will accept your choice. But Jon you must choose; for the sake of the kingdom."

Jon would have liked nothing more than to snap at her. To tell her she should have thought of that when she decided to marry a man who would never want her, who would never give her child, an heir. But he didn't. Jon would never be so cruel, especially since Daenerys had confided in him about her first late husband and their stillborn child.

So in the end, Jon did the only thing he could do.

He clasped his aunt's hand between his, bowing his head, and nodded.


	2. The Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now introducing Luminara and the Martells.

Her footfalls were nearly silent on the marble. Luminara Martell had learned to walk quietly at an early age. She had gained many useful skills at an early age.

She approached her father's chambers with a slight spring in her step, humming a song contently. A warm breeze filled the corridor, ruffling her dark and unruly curls. Luminara rapt against the door three times. Knowing better than to enter without permission, she waited.

Her father's voice called for her to enter, and she open the latch.

He stood in the middle of the room, pacing, his long legs eating the space between the walls with ease.

"I see you were at the market today," he threw a glance at her common garb, "or was it the whorehouse this time?"

"Both," Luminara smiled, "I went to visit Alana, and on my way back, I got distracted."

Her father stopped his pacing, suspicious of her tone, his eyebrow raised.

"By what exactly?"

"A performer in the square."

"Let me guess, you would like for me to invite her to entertain us during dinner?" He rolled his eyes.

"You're the one who suggested it father, not I. But since you have, could you? Please? She has such a lovely voice."

"Yes, and I'm sure that's the only thing you found about her lovely." He resumed his pacing.

"Well yes, she was quite beautiful," Luminara followed him with her eyes, noticing the tightening of his mouth and clenching of his jaw, "however that is not why I-what is wrong?"

Her father's scowl deepened as he growled at her question. That raised her eyebrow.

"I, the  _Prince of Dorne_ , have been summoned," he bit out the words.

"By whom and to where?"

"By Queen Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, queen of the First Men and the Andals, and whatever other million fucking titles she has. She wants us at King's Landing, that shit-hole." He made wild gestures as he spoke, mostly towards his desk that had a crumpled piece of parchment laying on it.

"May I?" She pointed at it. He jerked his head.

She read the neat, swirling handwriting, seemly to belong to the queen herself. The wording of the letter was delicate, just a simple request of their presence in King's Landing, certainly nothing as inflammatory as her father's reaction would suggest.

"Father, this is no command. She is merely inviting us to visit." She said the words slowly.

"Ha! What she suggests is no mere visit to foster better relations."

"Then what would it be for?"

Again he growled. Realization dawned on her.

"She wants a marriage between one of the princess and the prince." A lump formed in her throat.

He raked a hand through his raven locks.

"That is what I suspect, yes. A declination would practically be a declaration of war."

"I highly doubt that. However, if it is, then what is the problem? Go to King's Landing, have one of your daughters marry the Prince. Then one day a Martell will be the queen."

"Like Elia was to be queen?" His voice was deadly. Many would have cowered at the sound of his deep timbre. She was not one of them.

"Yes," she raised her chin, and his eyes flashed, "things are just starting to settle again. If you honestly believe the people will be happy with a war against Westeros after we just fought a civil war, then by all means, reject the queen's invitation and prepare the army."

"Perhaps I will," he shot at her.

"Then tell the men and their families they are to die for your pride. That was what killed Uncle Oberyn after all."

He seized a vase, hurling it at the wall, it shattering into a thousand pieces. "And having no pride killed Doran!" He screamed.

"Then maybe," she began quietly, "you should have more pride than Doran and less pride than Oberyn. And perhaps you will live."

Her father ceased his rage at her words, huffing. He fell silent as his jaw worked, what she had said running through his mind.

"Perhaps," he croaked, "you're right. I'm thinking irrationally."

"A common affliction among the Martells, most would say," Luminara replied dryly.

"Yes, they certainly would," he sighed, "I suppose I should send a response accepting the queen's invitation."

Luminara merely nodded her head; no more words were needed on her part.

"You and your sisters should start packing. It would not do to keep the queen waiting." He ran a hand over his stubbled chin.

"Me? I'm going?"

"Of course. You are my daughter, part of my family." He frowned at her

"Yes, but the purpose of the visit is to marry the families. The prince would never choose me." Luminara clenched her jaw.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," he shrugged, "but you are the one who convinced me, so you shall see the fruit this comes to bear, my little Lulu."

He grinned wolfishly, coming forward to embrace her. He wrapped his arms around her, laughing, as he kissed the top of her head, at her ferocious expression.

"Now, go pack, Lulu." 


	3. First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some words are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using Marc Simonetti's depiction of the Iron Throne as what it looks like in this fic.  
> Also, in the books, Garlan Tyrell is married. However, in my AU he is not, so that he may be on the Queensguard.

Jon was breaking his fast when the news broke. His page, Vyncent, rushed into his chamber out of breath.

"Your highness, the Dornish sails have been spotted. They will be here within the hour."

Jon jerked his head, a lump catching in his throat and knots forming in his stomach. Vyncent left him to finish his meal. As the boy left another man entered.

"I see someone already told you," came Tyrion's drawling voice.

"Yeah," he all but croaked.

"Yes, the Dornish princesses have arrived and very soon you will be married," Tyrion paused as Jon scowled at him, "more wine?"

"No." He shook his head.

"You may come to regret that." Tyrion murmured as he poured himself some.

"Perhaps. But at the moment I prefer to have a clear head." Jon crossed his arms as the man settled opposite the table from him. He wasn't sure what Tyrion wanted, nor was sure he even wanted to know.

"In my opinion, a 'clear head' is vastly overrated." He plucked a grape from Jon's plate.

"Yes well, you would."

Tyrion merely smiled, not at all offended. Jon continued to stare at him, waiting for him to reveal his true purpose for being there. He didn't have to wait long.

"I have decided," Tyrion began, "that we shouldn't skirt around the issue any longer."

Jon frowned. When had the issue  _ever_ been skirted around.

"We have deliberately omitted certain truths that will probably reveal themselves sooner rather than later. It would not do to put you in an...awkward situation, when it came be avoided. Especially since it apparently makes Prince Sebastian prickly, to say the least."

"What are you talking about?"

"Prince Sebastian's daughter, Princess Luminara."

Jon didn't know how or when they had got on this particular subject. It sometimes was...difficult to follow Tyrion Lannister's train of thought.

"What about her?"

Since the day his aunt told him he must marry, Varys had been schooling him, in a sense, about the Princesses of Dorne. From what he had been told, Luminara was Prince Sebastian's oldest daughter, that she was very beautiful and very spirited, and had played an integral role in the Martells regaining the throne. Jon still didn't see what was so important for Tyrion to be here talking to him when he needed to be traveling down to the docks to greet the royal envoy.

"She is not of Prince Sebastian's blood. She was an orphan that he took in and raised."

That raised his eyebrows. That most certainly had not been mentioned to him by Varys. A slight rush of gratitude went out to Tyrion. His ignorance certainly could have caused a faux pas if the Prince did not like it mentioned. Although, he wasn't quite certain why that would cause the prince upset.

Apparently Jon's next question was obvious since Tyrion answered before he even posed it.

"It's said her mother was a whore and her father a customer for the night." Tyrion swirled his cup, keeping his voice neutral.

 _She's a bastard_ , he thought. Something he couldn't identify rose up inside of him, making his throat tight and his chest ache.

"I see," Jon said lowly.

"Yes, I'm sure you do." Tyrion looked at Jon in that analytical way of his that he sometimes gets when he's seeing through a person. Jon had gotten used to those looks, so he simply stared back.

"Well," he place his goblet on the table, "I must get down to the docks. I have some Dornishmen to greet."

Tyrion slipped out of his chair, striding towards the door, leaving Jon to decipher the feelings he was having.

"Jon," Tyrion said before he left, "are you sure you won't have more wine?" The door snapped shut before Jon could even give his answer.

Perhaps he will have some more wine.

**********************************************************************************************************************************

Jon didn't have anymore wine. But now he was starting to think he should have.

The Dornish royal procession was filing into the throne room. Dozens of knights, jesters, minstrels, noblemen, and ladies marched in before the Iron Throne, with Daenerys sitting regally upon it and Jon standing at the base.

After what seemed like an eternity, Prince Sebastian entered with his daughters trailing behind him. The prince was tall and handsome, with olive-toned skin, dark curls, and even darker eyes. His daughters looked much the same way. Except one.

"Prince Sebastian, princesses," Daenerys stood, smiling, "Welcome. I hope your journey was alright."

"Indeed, it was," Prince Sebastian bowed, "It has been many years since I've traveled to King's Landing," his accented voice lilted, "My sister's wedding I believe."

The prince's dark eyes glinted as a ripple went through out the crowd at the courtiers gathered there. Jon clenched his jaw. The entire room was tense, including the princesses...except one.

The Princess Luminara didn't appear to be bothered at her father's thinly veiled words. In fact, she looked rather bored with everything. She was gazing dully at the queen waiting for her response.

Jon looked at her, really looked at her. Where her sisters were petite and slender, she appeared to be the same height as he and curvy. She lacked the olive complexion of the rest of the Martells but she was deeply tanned. Her eyes were not dark and fathomless but as bright and deep as emeralds. While all the Martells had gentle curls, her hair was curly in a wild and untamed way. That's not where the differences stopped. In between her nose sat a ring of gold, shaped like a half sun, its rays reaching down to her lips.

"Well," Daenerys began diplomatically, "I am glad you have accepted my invitation despite that fact, Prince Sebastian."

The man smiled at her loaded statement.

"I was honored to receive it, your Majesty." His tone was polite, however his eyes told a different story. Jon had suspected that there would be problems with this plan of theirs, and he wondered now more than ever if it would actually work.

Daenerys tilted her head studying the Prince, clearly seeing that some things needed to be dealt with, immediately and privately.

The queen swept her light skirts into her hands, careful not to snag them nor herself on the many wicked, fallen blades that made up the throne.

Daenerys told him she had specific dresses made for when she would sit on the throne, ones that didn't have full skirts or ostentatious adornments. The Iron Throne was highly uncomfortable and highly dangerous. If one found themselves relaxing even for a moment it, they could very possibly find themselves sliced to ribbons. Daenerys told him she would never make that mistake, and when the time came that he would sit on it, he shouldn't either.

With practiced grace and balance, the queen descended from the throne. The entire hall held their collective breath as she approached the Prince.

"Prince Sebastian," she spoke low, so low that only herself, the Dornishman, and Jon could hear, "I would like to have a word with you and your daughters in private so that we may continue this visit in an honest vein. Would that be permissible?"

The man's face stayed notably blank as he bowed his head, "Of course, your majesty."

Daenerys inclined her head to him as well before she straightened to address the crowd.

"In honor of Prince Sebastian and his daughters arrival, a feast will be held tonight in which is everyone welcome. That is all."

Indistinguishable muttering ran through the crowd of gathered courtiers, not doubt them expressing their disappoint in the lack of obvious drama that could have been elicited from the exchange. As they exited the throne room, the queen gestured for Jon and some of the Queensguard to lead her and the Martells to a private, and mostly importantly, secure meeting chamber to adjourn to.

Grey Worm and Ser Garlan Tyrell lead them out of the hall as Jon fell in beside his aunt, the Martells close behind.

"My Queen," Prince Consort Loras approached, keeping his voice low, "must I be present for this?" The man threw glances behind him to the crowd leaving the hall opposite of him.

Ser Garlan turned his head, the profile of his face showing, he frowning slightly at his younger brother.

"Yes," the queen said somewhere between a hiss and a sigh, "it would be perceived as a slight if you were not."

"Yes, your majesty," he bowed his head, a touch of resentment blossoming in his eyes.

Jon didn't know why Loras had anything to be resentful about. Daenerys practically gave him leave to do whatever he wanted as long as he was discreet. Jon glance at Ser Garlan. The set of his shoulders was tense. It would seem some words would be had between the brothers in the near future.

They came to the room, Ser Garlan opening the door, Grey Worm entering first to check it. Daenerys entered after, then Loras, and Jon behind him. He and Daenerys turned to face the Martells as they entered. Grey Worm left the room, closing the door behind him, and presumably went to stand guard with Ser Garlan.

Prince Sebastian stood tall and rigid, with his five daughters behind, all looking curious as to what was happening. Well, except one.

"Prince Sebastian," Daenerys began beside him, "I'm sure you are probably aware that my invitation for a visit was not as simple as that. It is my wish that perhaps we can forge a strong alliance through a marriage between my nephew and one of your daughters."

The aforementioned women began shifting about, a range of emotion crossing their faces, from confusion to disbelief to delight. Except Luminara. She still appeared bored. Her disinterest irked and fascinated him all at once.

"In the past, brokering a peace between the Targaryens and the Martells never lied in violence, but in marriage, as in the case with my namesake. I hope that could do the same once more."

Prince Sebastian's dark eyes seemed to burn.

"The last time a Martell married a Targaryen it did not end well." His words were quiet and deadly. A small sound came from behind him, something like an exasperated sigh. Jon looked to see whom it originated, but all of the princesses faces were carefully blank. Although he could probably take a guess whom it came from.

"You said you wanted to be us to honest, your majesty," the Dornishman continued, "you may not like what I have to say."

Daenerys raised her chin. "It does not matter if I like it. What has happened between out families needs to be dealt with."

"Very well, your majesty."

Jon saw the princesses eyes widened, however Luminara's eyes slowly fluttered down.

"I find it highly insulting that you would wish to marry one of my daughters to the very product of my sister's betrayal by your brother." The Prince's disdainful gaze swept over him, and it was his turn to lift his chin.

"There is no doubt in me," he continued, "that this boy will follow in his father's footsteps. None of my daughters deserved to be betrayed and tossed to the side, left humiliated like Ellia."

Heat rose through Jon's body at the man's accusations of Jon's lack of honor. His name might be Targaryen now, but everyone who knew him knew that he was a Stark through and through. Before his anger could reach an irrational pitch, a clear and audible snort cut through the thick silence.

All eyes turned to Princess Luminara, who had a rueful smile on her face.

"Is there something you'd like to say, Luminara?" Prince Sebastian bit out.

"Oh no," she claimed with pretend innocence, "its just if we were judging people based on their dead parents deeds, and going off of your logic, given that my mother was a whore and my father was a murderer, by all accounts, I should be seducing men then slitting their throats after I had my way with them," she paused as her sisters shifted away from her, smothering their reactions to her audacious words, "but so far they have yet to find proof of that." A touch of wickedness entered her grin.

Beside him, Loras turned himself slightly away from the interaction, no doubt trying to hide his reaction from the room. Jon could see that even Daenerys was having difficulty keeping her face neutral.

Jon could not help but frowning at the Princesses words. Was she trying to defend him or merely point out the Prince's overlooked hypocrisy? Either way something was stirring inside of Jon. Something that he was uncomfortable to identify.

"You and I," Prince Sebastian growled out, "will have a conversation after this. One that you will  _not_ like."

"I'm sure I won't, father," she said faintly, a small smile on her face that smacked of false meekness.

The Prince's jaw worked as he tried to control whatever he was feeling. He turned back to him and Daenerys, silent and fuming.

"Prince Sebastian, did you ever meet Lord Eddard Stark?"

Jon tensed at the queen's question.

"Yes, I did," he replied curtly.

"I never had the pleasure. Could you tell me your impressions of him?" Daenerys's tone was polite, and Jon cut a look at her, wondering where she was going with this.

"That he was an honest man," he grunted, "an honorable man."

"As I suspected," she nodded, "anytime I ask that of someone, that is what is always said about him. Prince Sebastian, I never knew my brother. I cannot claim knowledge of what transpired between him, your sister, and Lyanna Stark. I also cannot claim a personal knowledge of Ned Stark's character. What I can say is that I know Jon. Yes, he is of Rhaegar and Lyana's blood, but it was Ned Stark who raised him, it is Ned Stark who is truly his father. And I believe that if you were to ask anyone of Prince Jon's character, they would also say that he is a honest and honorable man. I cannot and will not make promises on Prince Jon's behalf, nor can I promise you a certain future. What I can promise you is you will come find that Jon is a good and decent man, worthy of your daughters."

Jon felt an ache in his chest at Daenerys's words. He knew she truly meant them, for she never would have said simply for the sake of appeasing someone.

"Prince Sebastian, I want nothing more than for Westeros to prosper once more, including Dorne. Both our lands are recovering from war, and we need each other to achieve what we once had and more. Will you please consider a marriage of our families for the sake of both of our countries?"

Prince Sebastian studied them, the last of the Targaryens, one so obviously so and the other without a trace of Valyria in his features.

There was a whisper, seeming to come from the wind itself, and the Prince sharply turned his head towards his daughters. He stayed that way for a moment, a deep frown settling on his face, before he sighed.

"I will agree to a marriage between Prince Jon and one of my daughters,"he said as Daenerys smiled with relief, "however I have conditions. The marriage with take place within a month. I've left my son, Toren, and my wife, Quara, in Sunspear to rule in my absence. It will take them that long to reach King's Landing for the wedding. After that, I must get back to Dorne, I cannot be gone any longer than that."

"Of course," Daenerys inclined her head, "your terms will be easily met."

"And how," Prince Sebastion asked, tugging the end of his sleeves, now seeming bored in the proceedings, "is it to be decided which of my daughters will marry Prince Jon?"

"I will leave that to him."

At the queen's admission, the princesses straightened themselves, throwing their shoulders back and their chests forward, fluttering their eyelashes, their eyes becoming decidedly predatory. Well, except one, of course.

A sense of apprehension filled Jon.

***********************************************************************************************************************************

Tyrion accosted him on his way back to his chambers. As Jon made the very important decision on what to wear to the feast that night (Jon rolled his eyes at the seriousness that Loras approached him with that subject), he relayed what happened during the meeting. When he told the man of Princess Luminara's bold words, Tyrion exclaimed his surprise.

"Surely she did not!"

"I assure you she did." He choose a black doublet with red and grey embroidery, despite suggestions that he should choose less somber attire.

Tyrion threw his head back, laughter roaring out of him. It took him several minutes before he regained his composure. When Tyrion came to, Jon had moved on to reading letter telling of reports of raids in the Riverlands.

"Oh," Tyrion gasped, wiping at his eyes, "I think I'm going to like her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I wasn't clear, Luminara has a septum piercing simply because she can. Also, if there is anymore confusion about Luminara, particularly about her sexuality, she's adopted the Dornish policy of appreciating everyone, especially if they are attractive. ;)


	4. Conversations with Family

Luminara's ears still rang from the scolding she just received from her father. She wasn't put off in the slightest. Yes, perhaps she shouldn't have spoken out in front of the royal family, but if he hadn't been acting like a petty child, she wouldn't have felt the need. The entire voyage to King's Landing, he had been in a foul mood. Whenever her sisters would ask what upset him, he would merely growl at them. Of course, Luminara knew the reason, however he hadn't told the other princesses his suspicions for the reason for their visit. Why, she didn't know. Most likely he was still debating whether or not to allow a marriage between one of them to the Prince.

Whenever it was just she and he, he would rant on and on and on about the insult, the offense the queen did him, wanting to marry 'that bastard' to one of his precious daughters. The times he spent raving before that particular instance, she listened quietly, offering up a few, well-pointed words that would calm him and help him think more rationally. However, when he called the Prince of Westeros a bastard, with all the disdain in the world, she snapped. Luminara threw one of her daggers at him, narrowly missing his left ear, it swaying violently from the force she threw it with into the wood of the ship. She had screamed at him like she never had before, snapping him right out of his rage. She said her part, berating him for judging the prince for circumstances that weren't his fault, then took her leave. Hours later, he returned her dagger to her, and he said no more on the matter for the rest of the trip. Luminara thought he was done holding his grudge.

What transpired in the Throne Room and the private meeting proved her wrong. Honestly, she was so tired of hearing the same tirade, especially when all those involved in Ellia's death were now dead. Even the people involved with Uncle Oberyn's death were dead as well. Well, except for Tyrion Lannister. Thankfully, her father did not blame the dwarf for his brother's choices.

She walked through the hall of where they were lodging for the duration of the stay, the Maidenvault. What an appropriate place for them to stay. As she approached a sitting room, the voices of her sisters flitted through the air.

"One month! How does father expect the Prince to fall in love with me in only a months time?" Kalabel, the youngest, exclaimed, gesturing wildly in her stress.

"Oh Kala," Luminara tutted, "my darling little sister, you cannot. The only thing you can elicit from a person in the span of a month is lust and possibly affection. To expect anything more is foolish." She leaned against the doorway, smiling ruefully.

Kala raised her chin and squared her shoulders, despising Luminara's words for their wisdom, and yes alright, condescension.

"If it is true love, he will," Kala replied indignantly.

Eridesa and Zendaria snickered at her, and Venyssa frowned at them.  Luminara simply regarded Kala. Kala was a hopeless romantic. She did not scorn the girl for it. However, it would be unwise to approach this situation with her romantic notions. 

"Kala, see this for what it is; a peace treaty. Whomever marries the prince in a month, it will not be for love, but for the sake of our kingdoms," she held up her hand when the girl tried to interrupt, "however, given time, far more than a month, the marriage could foster love. But it could also not."

Luminara walked over to the young girl. She put a finger under Kala's chin, raising it until her dark eyes found Luminara's.

"Your optimism is one of the many things I adore about you, my dear Kalabel. But that does not mean I will let it destroy you. It is fine to live in fantasy, but do not hold reality up to its standard. It will only serve to disappoint you." Luminara kissed the warm skin of Kala's forehead.

Then she pulled away.

"However," a wicked smile grew on her face, "if you wish to play off that which will be available to you in a month's time, I'll be happy to guide you, little one."

"What? You mean lus-lust?" Kala's eyes grew wide.

"Oh yes." Luminara's grin growing as a blush crept up her sister's face.

"Why must you always be so cynical, Lulu," Venyssa asked her dryly.

"It is not cynicism," she waggled her finger at Venyssa, another hopeless romantic, "but being practical. Besides, if you had seen all I've seen, you would be the same."

"You know," Eridesa spoke up from her embroidery, "you are always talking about what you have seen, and yet you never tell exactly what that is."

"You know father has forbidden me from doing so." Luminara laughed.

"You could still tell us. It's not like you listen to father anyways," Zendaria grumbled.

"On this I will. It is not for innocent ears." Luminara plucked at some lint on her sleeve, hiding her expression from her sisters. "Anyway," she changed the subject, "have any of you seen that dratted cousin of ours?"

"Which one?" Eridesa stabbed her needle into the fabric in her hand.

"Blydenn."

"Does father want the two of you to sing at the feast tonight?" Kalabel eyes light up.

"Yes. And I need to find so we may confer on our song selection."

"I believe he said he was going to explore the town for a bit." Zendaria replied.

"Ah, I see. In that case, I will you all later, my darlings." Luminara turned to leave.

"How are you going to find him in all of the city?" Venyssa asked, her brow furrowed.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll turn up," was all Luminara said as she walked out the door.

***************************************************************************************

Luminara went to the first whorehouse she could find.

She was met at the door by a woman in a simple, yet fashionable gown, one that didn't reveal much. She was clearly the host of the place. If she had been a common whore, she would have worn a lot less.

"I believe you are in the wrong place dear." A hand rest on her ample hip.

"If Ser Blydenn Allyrion is in there, then no I'm not."

"I'm sorry, no one in here with such a name." The tiniest shift in her eyes told Luminara the truth.

Luminara pulled out her dagger. The hilt was made from gold, with rubies incrusted in it, and the blade obviously wickedly sharp. She thumbed the edge of it, nicking her finger, blood welling at the spot. Pouring everything into her Dornish accent, "I would hate to see your pretty face sliced up."

The women's eyes widened with fear. She stepped aside for Luminara, squeaking out directions to her cousin. Luminara sheathed her blade back into the folds of her dress, and went the direction the host had so graciously pointed her in.

Luminara entered the room without so much as knocking. The sight she came across was nothing she hadn't seen before. A pretty red head with skin as pale and smooth as milk worked over her cousin, his head thrown back in pleasure.

"Blydenn," she simply stated.

He looked up, lust glazing his eyes. A moment passed before the fog lifted from them, focusing on her.

"What the fuck, Luminara? Why are you here?" His words were filled with anger at his interrupted pleasure.

"I need to speak with you."

"Why did they even let you in. I was assured I wouldn't be disturbed."

"Some of the advantages of being Dornish is that when you threaten to slice somebody's face to ribbons, they take you seriously." Luminara inspected her fingernails.

Blydenn groaned, half from the ministrations of the women and half from exasperation with her.

"What do you want then?" He growled.

"Father wants us to sing at the feast tonight. He wants us to sing something  _appropriate_."

"Do we even know anything of those kinds of songs?" He gasped as the ginger teased the ring on his nipple.

"Very few," Luminara shrugged, "which is why I am here. I was thinking that Summer Isles fertility song we know. We-"

Luminara's hand reached out, tangling itself in the women's thick hair, tugging her gently but insistently up. Blydenn's cock slipped out of her mouth as Luminara moved her away, the man groaning in frustration.

"Why would you do that? You can see I'm trying to have a conversation with him." Luminara frowned. She sat the woman to the side, Blydenn sitting up on his elbows, his gaze darkening in anger at her.

"Anyway, like I was saying, I think we should sing that fertility song. Our voices harmonize beautifully on it."

"Well, that's hardly an appropriate song." Blydenn's mouth was caught between harsh line of anger and a sly smile at her suggestion.

"Yes, I'm aware. But it is in the Summer Tongue, so no one will know that."

"Not even your father?" Blydenn raised an eyebrow.

"My father may have had many a Summer Islander, but I can assure you he did not take the time to learn their language."

"Well, it is settled then. We shall sing that. Now get the hell out." Blydenn lay back down, the woman immediately picking up where she left off.

Luminara didn't even bother to tell him goodbye. He wouldn't have heard her anyway.


	5. The Welcome Feast

The feast was held outside to accommodate all the guests attending. All the nobles were their grandest finery, all in the attempt of trying to outdo one another. Although, when the Martells arrived, it was obvious it had been for naught.

Prince Sebastian arrived in a slivery blue long coat embroidered with gold suns and spears, a dark blue undershirt that exposed a sliver of his chest, and a thick belt at his waist. His daughters were dressed more in the Martell house colors, two in yellow and two in orange. Luminara was in red. Their dresses were made of a wispy material, as if brightly colored clouds swirled around them. They also were more provocative than any other gowns Jon had seen, even those of Lady Margaery's. The necklines of their gowns exposed their shoulders and much of their chest, the swells of their breasts visible. In fact, their dresses seemed that if you pulled but one thread loose, they would simply float straight to the ground.

Yes, Varys had not lied when he had said the Dornish princesses were beautiful, not one of them more so than the other, not even Luminara with her different features. If Jon were a man to base his decision on beauty alone, he never would have been able to make the choice.

Loras escorted the queen to her seat at the high table, then took his place to her left. Prince Sebastian took his seat to Daenerys's right, the seat of honor. Jon sat on the other side of Loras. Dornish nobles began to escort the princesses to the high table. A flash of scarlet caught his eye as Princess Luminara, nudged one her sisters forward, herself falling back behind the rest of them. Jon frowned at her odd behavior.

A knight from the house of Santagar led a princess to the table, she taking the seat beside him. This was surely Princess Eridesa, for she looked the eldest after Luminara. A rush of tension rolled through him. On this night, the seat beside him was meant for the eldest daughter of Prince Sebastian, meaning when Luminara fell behind her sisters, she purposefully changed the seating arrangement. Was she snubbing him? Jon did not mind getting rejected, however he did mind that it was for no apparent reason.

"Good evening, your highness." Eridesa smiled flirtatiously at him.

"Good evening, Princess," he murmured.

The rest of the princesses were being seated on their father's side, all gracefully strolling to their seats, the men at their sides prickling with pride at escorting such beautiful woman. Although, the man at Luminara's side wasn't puffing up with self import or sending lecherous glances to the princess on his arm. The dark haired man said something to Luminara, the ease of familiarity in his sly smile. Luminara quipped back at the handsome man, him throwing his head back in laughter as she chuckled.

"That is my cousin, Ser Blydenn Allyrion," Eridesa told Jon as she noticed his gaze, "he and Luminara are close since they are of an age. Blydenn had scarcely arrived at Sunspear to be fostered by my father when we took Luminara in."

Jon nodded, taking in her words, and couldn't help himself from wondering if Luminara and Ser Blydenn's relationship was that merely of old friends or perhaps something more. Was that the reason she let Eridesa have her seat, because she wished to marry the man beside her?

Luminara took the seat on the end, beside Tyrion, only three seats from Jon.

Daenerys stood, her dress the color of an afternoon sky, her silvery hair braided intricately.

"Once more, I welcome Prince Sebastian and his daughters to King's Landing. May this visit unite Westeros and Dorne once more!" She gestured her arms wide, and servants filed into the court yard, carrying massive platters of food.

A couple of people over, Jon heard Tyrion immediately engage Luminara in conversation.

"Princess Luminara, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"Likewise, Lord Hand." Jon saw her smile at him.

"I could not help but notice," Tyrion said lightly, picking up his goblet, "that your sisters are in either yellow or orange. And you are in red."

"Well Lord Hand, only a blind man would not notice that," she chuckled.

"Yes, I suppose so. I guess my real question is why?"

"My father," she began, pointing at certain fruits to be placed on her plate, "wanted us in House Martell colors. I look terrible in yellow; I haven't the complexion for it, and I detest the color orange. And red is a favorite color of mine."

"How convenient," Tyrion said slyly.

"Yes, I suppose it is," she replied in the same tone.

At that point, Jon realized that Princess Eridesa had been conversing with him, and he hadn't heard a word. He admonished himself for his rudeness. Jon gave the princess his focus, her speaking animately, and he reply when it was necessary to continue the conversation. Eridesa had a pleasant voice, and was sweet and engaging enough that talking to her throughout their meal was not a chore.

Although, Jon was focused on the woman beside him, often it would be interrupted by the laughter of Tyrion or Luminara, or both. There was a small part of him that longed to be part of that conversation, for every time Luminara's genuine, throaty laugher sounded, pang went through his chest.

Jon frowned inwardly. Although he didn't want to admit it, he knew what he was feeling. His first encounters with Ygritte had started much this way. What he truly didn't understand was why he was feeling like that. She had never even spoke directly to him, and he she.

"Your majesty, might I suggest some entertainment?" Prince Sebastian addressed the queen after several courses had been served.

"I believe it is my duty to provide that, Prince Sebastian." Her smile was bemused.

"I meant no offense, my queen," he inclined his head slightly, "only that I wished for my daughter and nephew to sing for you."

"Of course, I would love to hear them," Daenerys glanced at each princess in turn, wondering which of them they were speaking of.

"Luminara, Blydenn," the prince gestured to them, "if you will."

"Excuse me, Lord Hand," Luminara murmured.

She swept up her gauzy skirts, strolling gracefully to the middle of the courtyard to join her cousin. They came together, turning towards the queen, awaiting her instruction.

"Whenever you are ready." Daenerys settled more comfortably in her seat.

Luminara curtsied and Blydenn bowed. When they straightened, Luminara counted off. Blydenn opened his mouth and began singing in another language, his mellow tenor filling the courtyard. Murmurs went through the crowd, no doubt praising the Dornishman for his voice. While Jon did enjoy Ser Blydenn's voice, he held his breath for Luminara.

Blydenn's voice faded, and Luminara began. The entire courtyard fell quiet, and it was not hard to understand why. Her voice was nothing like the self-professed excellent singers in King's Landing, who's voices were bright, clear, and reedy. No, hers was raspy, and deep. It had a haunting quality to it, like it rolled over every corner of his soul. It was slow and seductive, and completely mucking up his head. Listening to her sing made his mind drift to slow unfurling heat and pure visceral sensations, the kinds of things he thought of late at night when his loneliness became too unbearable.

Jon shifted in his seat, as the two of them sang together, harmonizing with each other so beautifully shivers ran through his body. And Jon could see he wasn't the only one affected by their song. Their voices rose to a crescendo, their last notes ringing out into the night.

The courtyard sat in stunned silence for a moment before the queen started clapping, everyone else rushing to join in. They bowed and curtsied again at the applause.

"What language was that in?" Daenerys asked.

"The Summer Tongue, your majesty," Luminara answered.

"It was absolutely beautiful. Where would you hear such a song?"

"In the marketplace of Sunspear. There are many a different people that frequent there."

"Do you know the words?"

"No," Blydenn shook his head, "only that it is a nursery song, your majesty."

"Oh well, that is alright. Missandei," Daenerys called to the woman, "could you translate for us?"

The two cousins snapped their heads to the Naathian woman, who looked like a child been caught doing something, then they looked back at each other with their eyes wide.

"Looks like someone maybe in trouble," Tyrion chuckled as he drank from his cup.

"I am sorry, your majesty. I was so enthralled by their voices, I was unable to catch the words," Missandei's words came out in a rush.

"Oh," Daenerys slightly frowned before brightening back up, "no matter. It was a lovely song. Thank you for sharing."

Luminara and Blydenn murmured their words of pleasure before retaking their seats. The feast had ended, but the frivolities were just beginning. Musicians came out, and the queen and Prince Consort Loras led the first dance.

Jon turned to Eridesa, asking if she'd like to dance, the girl's face flushing with pleasure as she gushed her acceptance.

They only had had the one before Prince Sebastian cut in, Jon graciously handing her over to her father. As Jon left the dance floor, he saw Tyrion approaching Missandei. Jon reached the woman the same time Tyrion did.

"So," Tyrion drawled, "what was that song really about?"

"I do not know what you mean." She kept her tone careful, but she would not look either of them in the eye.

Tyrion grinned, glancing at Jon for a moment. "Missandei, dear, don't you think you lied enough tonight?"

Jon watched as a range of emotions played across her face. Finally, she seemed to give in.

"That twas no nursery song-"

"I knew it," Tyrion snapped his fingers as he interrupted.

"What kind of song is it?" Jon asked her, curiosity piquing in him.

"It was a fertility song," she mumbled, a deep blushing creeping up her face.

"A fertility song?" Jon repeated slowly, eyebrows raising. She nodded.

"One does wonder what all Dorne gets up to if Summer Island fertility songs are sang in the marketplace," Tyrion mused.

Missandei looked down for a fraction of a second, her eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, before she resumed her normal expression.

"Unless," Tyrion began slowly, he having also noticed her brief change in expression, "they did not hear it at the market..."

"I could not speculate, Lord Hand."

"Yes, you can. You have." Tyrion poked lightly at her arm. Missandei pressed her lips into a line. "Go on then. Speculate."

"That song is not something a Summer Islander would sing in just anyplace. It is only sung during certain circumstances." Missandei flushed even more.

"So, what you're saying is, it more likely sung at places such as a brothel?" Tyrion pressed.

"Yes, Lord Hand," Missandei whispered.

"That doesn't mean they did not hear in the market," Jon spoke up.

"It is possible, my prince," Missandei spoke slowly, "but not very probable."

"Oh," Tyrion gasped, shaking with laughter, "what a splendidly wicked trick. I swear that girl."

Missandei was called away, leaving just the two of them. Tyrion held a hand to his chest as he laughed, using his other to wipe the tears that had gathered from his amusement.

"Honestly, I'm half in-love with her already," Tyrion chuckled.

"Then why don't you marry her," the words coming out of Jon's mouth before he could stop them.

"Because, my dear boy," Tyrion said sobering up a bit, "that could take away your chance for finding love."

"Love," Jon asked, raising an eyebrow, "my upcoming nuptials are not taking place because of love."

"No, they aren't. That doesn't mean that your marriage won't eventually foster love."

Jon went to say that that could be applied to all the sisters, not just Luminara, but Tyrion interrupted him.

"Jon Snow," Tyrion using his old name, taking Jon back a bit, "you love wild things. The North, Ghost, that wildling girl, Rhaegal. And that girl is a wild thing if I've ever seen one."

*************************************************************************************************************

Jon lay in his bed, staring at the dark ceiling. The party had ended hours ago, and yet the words still echoed in his head.

_Jon Snow, you love wild things..._

_You love wild things..._

_Jon Snow_ _..._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, Margaery was spared in the Targaryen Resurgence (what Jon and Daenerys's war was called) to keep the good graces of the Tyrells.  
> Not sure if Missandei can speak the Summer Tongue, but in the show she can speak 19 languages so I figure she can speak it.


	6. A Family Disagreement

"Tonight was the best night of my life!" Kalabel exclaimed, throwing herself into a seat dramatically.

Luminara grinned at her sister's antics. They all sat in a sitting room, still feeling the rush from the party. It had been rather fun, Luminara mused. The food had been delicious and the wine strong. She had had lovely dancing partners for the and had shared some lively conversation, particularly with the Lord Hand, Tyrion Lannister. Tales of the dwarf had reached Dorne, and while they had all told of his stature and drunkenness, they had failed to mention his sharp intelligence and unfailing humor. Luminara liked the Lannister very much.

"And why was that?" Eridesa asked.

"Because I danced with the prince-"

"We all did," Zendaria pointed out.

" _Because_ ," Kala repeated, "we dance together, and it was like magic. When we spoke, it was like it was our very souls! And Gods, is he handsome!" Kala fanned her face with her hands.

Luminara tried very hard, she really did, but she couldn't help herself. She snorted at Kala's over-the-top antics, and all eyes turned to her.

"Surely, even you would think Prince Jon is handsome." Venyssa raised her eyebrows at her.

"Yes, cousin. Surely even you." Blydenn drawled beside her, he slouching like a lazy cat on the settee. Luminara cut him a look.

"I did not laugh because I don't think the prince handsome. I laughed because of Kala's outrageous statements. No, the prince is very handsome, there is no doubt about that."

Luminara could see him in her mind's eye. Very handsome, indeed. He had ebony curly hair, the kind she would love to sink her fingers into, and eyes so dark they seemed black, but Luminara had once seen light reflect off his eye, and in the light they had appeared grey. Luminara had never seen such eyes. He had a beard that he kept cropped close to his face, and Luminara knew that if he rubbed his beard in soft, intimate places that it would leave a mark. He wasn't very tall, the same height as her, but he looked muscular and solid underneath his finery. And then there were his lips. They looked soft, not dry and cracked like most mens, but best of all they were plump and full, and Luminara wanted to know what it was like to kiss him.

_Those are the kind of lips_ made _for kissing...and other things_ , Luminara thought before she could stop herself. She needed to divest herself of such thoughts. She was not going to marry Prince Jon, one of her sisters were. Luminara should be helping them, not lusting after one of their's future husband.

"Aye, the prince is a very handsome lad," Blydenn agreed, casting Luminara a mischievous glance, "but I saw you talking to the dwarf. You fancy him, don't you Luminara." Blydenn nudged her teasingly.

Luminara did not even dignify him with an answer.

"Is that true? Do you fancy the Lord Hand?" Kala's eyes were wide.

Luminara shook her head, but Zendaria had already zoned in on her.

"A Martell marrying a Lannister? Father will not be pleased." Zendaria's smile was so sly.

"Yes, it would bring a new meaning to the Martell unofficial motto, 'Fuck the Lannisters.'"

Before she could open her mouth to rebuke them, telling them that she had simply enjoyed Tyrion's company _and that was all_ , her father walked in.

"What are you all talking about," he asked, a contented smile on his face.

"The prince," Luminara replied lightly. Everyone nodded, knowing that even though they were joking, talk of marrying a Lannister would wipe the smile off of their father's face.

"Ah," his face darkened a bit, "the prince. Yes, he's seems a nice enough lad," her father admitted begrudgingly.

"A bit cold though," Blydenn murmured, examining his fingernails.

"Aye," Prince Sebastian agreed, "but he is a Northman after all."

Luminara didn't say anything. She didn't think the prince cold at at. People tended to confuse cold with guarded. She certainly understood why they, the Dornishmen, where they practically bleed heat and passion,  would think the prince distant. No, Luminara saw very clearly that the prince simply kept things close to his heart. After all she was the same way, though it certainly didn't seem like it.

"He is not cold," Kalabel said fiercely, "he is simply shy."

Luminara rolled her eyes. Kala was over romanticizing the man, probably fancying herself to be the one to coax him out of his shell. Jon Targaryen was not shy; he just simply preferred to observe than to fill the silence with pointless chatter. Was she really the only one who could see?

Prince Sebastian gave his youngest daughter a sharp look.

"Watch yourself, Kala," he warned.

Kala raised her chin. "Why would I do that?" She challenged him.

"Because," their father growled, "despite the queen's passionate speech, I still not trust the boy. And neither should you. Do not let yourself be deceived by his pretty face, daughter."

Kala stood, slightly shaking with anger. "Did you not even listen to Lulu?" She exclaimed. Luminara sat up straight, taunt as a bowstring, knowing this would not end well. "He is not his father! And I am not Aunt Ellia!. Honestly, "Kala huffed, exasperated, "What happened to her was so long ago. I don't care-"

Quick as a viper, Luminara stood, hand flashing out to catch her father's wrist, stopping him, his hand an inch away from slapping the young, and decidingly foolish, girl. Her father breathed hard, his chest rising and falling heavily, glaring at Kalabel, who apparently had scrounged up enough intelligence to look scared.

The room was deadly silent.

"Do not do something you will regret, father," she murmured to him. While their father had been known to be violent on occasion, he had never hit one of his children.

Still he did not look at her, continuing to stare at his ever shrinking daughter.

"Kala," Luminara did not look at her, still watching their father, "go to bed. While you're there, pull your head out of your arse."

Kala scampered off, the rest of her sisters figuring it was probably best for them to take their leave too, and hurried to follow. Blydenn also made his exit, but his was more of a leisurely stroll.

Luminara let go of her father's wrist, his arm falling down to his side.

"She is young, father. She does not understand what it is like to lose a loved one, especially in a horrific way." Luminara swallowed down a lump in her throat, painful memories rising to the surface.

He blinked, coming to at the sound of her strained voice.

"No, she doesn't." He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her. As she leaned against him, she hid her face in his chest, willing the tears welling her eyes away.

After a moment, he pulled back, sadness still in his eye, but with steel in his jaw.

"No, she doesn't, but I did not teach her to be so self-centered and insensitive."

"No, you didn't," Luminara agreed. Kala wasn't usually this way. Maybe the prospect of marrying a handsome prince was going to her head in a bad way.

"Talk to her in the morning, when you both are calmer."

Her father nodded his head, his eyes a thousand miles away.

Luminara left him to his thoughts.

************************************************************************************

Luminara slept rather fitfully. Dreams of chaos and blood and blank eyes haunting her. But most disturbing of all was the addicting soft lips on her body making her care naught for the rest.


	7. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I usually break up the chapters by a change in POV, but this chapter will have both Jon's and Luminara's POV, just to let y'all know.  
> Also, thanks so much for the kudoes everyone!  
> Also, also, feedback would be much welcome :)

_Luminara_

She finally found someone who knew her cousin's whereabouts after asking practically everyone in the Maidenvault. Luminara strode towards Blydenn's chamber, her plain and scratchy skirts swirling around her legs. Excitement bubbled in her gut slowly as she went to collect her cousin. Hopefully, he wasn't busy at the moment so he could steal out of the Red Keep with her.

Luminara passed the sitting room, noticing her sisters were absent from it. However, her father was not. He appeared to be in deep thought, so she tread lightly, bowing her head down, hoping to appear as one of the servants. She was good at sneaking around, and was confident she would make to Blydenn's rooms and out of the Keep with no one noticing.

It would seemed that her confidence was misplaced since her father looked up as she just passed the doorway, softly calling her name.

She changed direction, heading back to the sitting room, entering it with a, "Yes, father?"

"Please sit." He gestured to the chair opposite of him.

She took it, gracefully, as he eyed her dress.

"Going into the city, I see." His tone rather bored and exasperated.

"Yes," she nodded, not at all defensive, knowing he would not stop her, "I was on my way to retrieve Blydenn so we may go together." She added that last bit for his piece of mind, even though they both very well knew she was capable of handling herself.

He nodded slowly, as if his mind were not entirely on their present conversation.

"About last night," he began, Luminara straightening up, "thank you for stepping in. I would have regretted striking Kalabel. The subject of Ellia had never failed to rile me up. I do not know what went wrong in Kala, but I do not intend for it to continue. Perhaps I spoiled her too much..." He trailed off, Luminara silent, they both aware of the answer.

He did not speak for a while, lost in his thoughts, and Luminara stood, with the intention of leaving him in them.

She reached the door, and his words were low and just a hint accusatory.

"You didn't sit next to the prince last night."

"Aye," she turned around to face him, "I did not."

"That was your place last night. Instead, you gave to Eridesa."

"Aye," she repeated.

"You did not dance with him; you didn't even speak with him."

Luminara merely nodded.

"Why?" Her father's gaze bored into hers.

"He already has four women vying for his attention, he does not need another," she said simply.

"The agreement was for him to choose one of my daughters. And since you are included in that, you have every right as much as your sisters to 'vie for his attention."

"Do I, though?" Her words were a murmur, but he heard them nonetheless.

" _Yes_ ," he exclaimed vehemently, fiercely.

"Well, I do no think I do. I am not suitable." Luminara clenched her hands in the coarse fabric of her skirt.

Her father stood suddenly, storming towards, and roughly grasping her shoulders.

Shaking her lightly, "Yes, you  _are_ , Luminara. Stop with this nonsense."

"Father, I am the daughter of a whore. Just because I wear fancy clothes, and a Lord claims me as his, does not mean the prince will want me for a wife." Luminara looked him straight in the eyes as she said her words.

He took a step back, studying her hard, his eyes glinting something hard and something sad.

"Maybe. But you must remember, Lulu, the prince was raised as the son of a whore, who wore fancy clothes and a Lord claimed him as his. While most men would see your parentage as something unsavory, the prince would see something entirely different."

"And what's that?" She raised her chin.

"A connection. An experience the two of you would share, have in common. Something that he would never have with your sisters."

She stared at him a bit longer, before dropping her gaze to the ground. Something heavy settled in her stomach at the thought of someone  _understanding_ , even just a little bit.

"Promise me you will at least try, Lulu," he raised her chin with his fingers, making her meet his gaze.

She jerked her head in response, agreeing. He pulled back, knowing full well she was lying. He did not press the issue.

"Go find your cousin. Be careful, Luminara."

Luminara murmured she would. With the infinitely sad look in his eyes, she did not lie to him this time.

*********************************************************************************************

Extremely tempting thoughts rushed through her head as an ache settled in her chest.

 _A connectio_ _n_ , her father said,  _an experience the two of you would share, have in common_.

There was a longing in her, that she thought had disappeared long ago, that flared back up at her father's words. She had always regarded her want, her need, to have someone who intimately knew what it was like, who would inherently understand, a foolish child's wish. Now, it seemed rather reasonable, albeit somewhat pathetic, to have someone that could help abate the lonliness she sometimes felt.

However, she wasn't going to allow her desire for an empathic friend interfere with her sisters' chances of marriage. While she did not think the prince would assume certain things, she didn't want to take the chance that he misunderstand her reaching out a hand in friendship as something more.

Luminara knocked on Blydenn's door, her thoughts a million miles away. She didn't catch what all he said, but through the door she heard the word, "Come," and that was enough for her. She opened the door, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin, to appear her normal congenial self. Luminara didn't want Blydenn asking questions and she want to give him answers even more.

 _Oh_ , she thought as she came upon the sight of her cousin,  _not that kind of_ come.

Blydenn was in his bed, naked, sheets twisted around him and two other just as naked people, including one Prince Consort Loras.

"My apologies, cousin," she said smoothly, forcing the blush she felt creeping up at the unexpected sight down, knowing Blydenn would endlessly tease her about it later, "I heard, 'Come in.' Clearly, I should have listened for the rest of that sentence." Luminara clasped her hands in front of her.

"That's two times in two days, Lulu," Blydenn replied lazily as a flaxen-haired woman worked over his cock with her mouth.

"I can assure, I am not trying to make it a habit," she said as the Prince Consort untangled himself from the pile of limbs, "oh no please, Prince Consort Loras, stay. I was just leaving. I was merely going to inquire if my cousin would join me on an expedition to the town, but he clearly has more important things to do." She grinned wickedly at the handsome man.

As she turned to leave she noticed something in the room. Or the  _absence_ of something, really.

"I will order some oil for you on my way out," she announced.

Luminara closed the door behind her, hearing Blydenn reassuring the Prince Consort that she knew how to keep quiet, and chuckled all the way to the city.

***********************************************************************************

_Jon_

Jon was on his way to the armory, with the intention of sparring with his page. Vyncent, always a step behind him, looked much the same as he always did, excited and nervous. As Jon was mentally running through drills and maneuvers for them to go through today, something caught his eye.

It was a woman, servant by the look of the clothes. Honestly, he wouldn't have noticed her if not for her hair; her thick, unruly curls that were as black as a raven's wing.

He did a double take as he wondered why Princess Luminara was dressed as such. And why she was heading towards Traitor's Walk, and ultimately the city.

Jon changed direction, towards the princess, and out the corner of his eye he saw Vyncent look at him strangely.

She was doing a good job of appearing to be a simple servant. The clothes, the way she hurried along with her eyes downcast, her slumped posture. But Jon Snow had dreamt of that hair only the night before, so there was no mistake it was her.

"Princess Luminara." He spoke as he reached her.

She whipped her head up, a smile falling from her face as her eyes widened in surprise. Then the corner of her mouth quirked up, like a child knowing there were caught doing something wrong, but had the charm to escape trouble.

"Your highness," she curtsied.

He said nothing as his eyes ran over her.

"I'm sure you have many question, your highness," she said with a sort of wide-eyed innocence that amused him.

"Yes. And I'm not sure which to ask first." The corners of Jon's mouth twitched. He wanted to smile; something about this girl seemed to make him want to do that. But he wouldn't, not now, not until he was sure this, whatever it was, wouldn't lead to trouble. Although, he was almost sure it would.

"Then ask none, and let us be on our way." She grinned wide and brilliantly at him.

He was inclined to give her what she wanted, just so he wouldn't see that smile slip from her face. However, he wasn't going to do that. Jon shook his head.

"Fine," she said, the smile not leaving her face, just changing to a roguish one instead, "I am on my way to town. One of the servant girls, Kali, told me of this shop where they make these like fried sandwiches, and apparently they are so delicious she no longer has control of her coin since she was spending it all on them. I intend to go to this shop, and try on of these sandwiches that will make a beggar out of me."

"Is that really where you're going?" Jon asked, thinking to the whispers Varys told him about the princess.

Luminara laughed, and not a fake one like he usually heard within the walls of the keep, but genuine and deep.

"Yes," she said after some time, "truly. My plans for the day are nothing too scandalous, my prince, I assure you."

Jon nodded slowly, "Alright. And how often do you stick to your plans?"

"Rarely," she grinned wickedly.

He smiled in return, not being able to help herself, and chuckled.

A strange look passed across Luminara's face, one of confliction and hesitation, before her features smoothed over.

"Tell me, my prince, are you perchance busy at the moment?" The smile was still on her face, but there was an underlying seriousness to her now.

His heart jumped as she claimed him _her_ prince. For why, he didn't know. Many a people addressed him as such and he had never had such a reaction. Perhaps it was the way it rolled off of her tongue. Or perhaps it was the implications that could be behind it in the future, in a month's time.

"No, I am not." He felt a pang of guilt as Vyncent shifted behind him.

"Then would you like to come with me?"

That was all she said. No 'come with me to protect me.' No 'come with me so that we may have some time together.' No 'come with me, it'll be fun.' No manipulations, no coercions, no goading. Just a simple request.

It had been a while since Jon had received a simple request for his company, with no agenda. It felt strange, nostalgic, and above all, freeing, like when Tyrion had called him Jon Snow.

It was when Jon looked into her vividly green eyes, and saw something that he recognized, something he hid within himself, that he was well and truly fucked.

"Yes," he croaked out before clearing his throat, "yes, I would like that."

He adjusted Longclaw on his hip, throwing an apologetic look back at Vyncent. Vyncent didn't appear to be upset at the turn of events since the boy was trying to smother a smile and mirth was dancing in his eyes.

Jon fell into step beside Luminara, her holding out her arm for him to take. He slipped his arm into the crook of hers, and the took off towards the square. Jon stole a glance at her. Her smile was tentative and her eyes a bit hopeful. It was a different kind of hope that he saw from her sisters. It was a kind of hope he had in himself, the kind of hope he didn't dare dream on. But seeing it in her eyes, he felt it rise up in him.

Yep, he was well and truly fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may not be clear, so I'll clarify; when I said "Jon Snow had dreamt of that hair only the night before..." I did not make a mistake in not calling him Jon Targaryen.

**Author's Note:**

> Btw, going off of the book's description of Ygritte, not Rose Leslie. She's gorgeous.


End file.
